


Persuasion

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Starman (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Dien</p><p>An awkward date between a cop and a (reformed) supervillain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Livia

 

 

It was the sort of tea that Hope O'Dare had only read of in Jane Austen novels, and other books of the period: the sort of tea with perfectly laid out napkins, with cucumber sandwiches, with elegant china and delicious, meticulously frosted cookies on little doilies.

It was the sort of tea that had made her hate Jane Austen novels.

Hope smiled a smile that felt as if her teeth were stretching her gums and accepted another cookie.

At least he'd abandoned quite quickly the attempt to converse in French.

Both of them had had quite enough of _that_ language, recently.

Eventually she had to give up. Hope set down her teacup with a noticeable clatter. "Shade."

He peered at her over the rim of his own teacup, black brows arching above the black glasses. Then lowered his own cup noiselessly to the saucer and folded his hands neatly together on the tabletop. "Yes, Hope?"

"This-- isn't working."

There was a moment's silence, and then a small sigh she almost didn't catch. "Mmm. I confess myself unsurprised, to tell you the truth. Romances between policewomen and supervillains, while excellent fodder for dramatic soap opera tension, are not, perhaps, practical in reality--"

"Woah there, bucko. For one, you are not a supervillain-- shut up, no, you're _not_ , not anymore. Two, this is our _first date_. It's a little early to be discussing what is and isn't working in regards to _that_. Which leads us to _three_ \-- I was talking about-- about--"

"About?" he pressed mildly, a single brow arched now, lips pursed with his obvious pique at having the supervillain title so rudely, and without dispute, stripped from him.

"About... this," Hope said, and spread her hands to indicate the spread-- the teapot, the china, the gingersnaps.

Shade paused a moment, then coughed in a way that probably indicated social faux pas in an Austen novel. "This _is_ the best teahouse in the Opal; if it's not to your standards..."

"It's lovely. Really. And it's also..." Hope rubbed at her forehead. She had come dressed rather nicely, all things told; a skirt, a muted sweater, a few touches of jewelry. She nevertheless felt as out of place as if she'd come in in jeans and shoulder holster. "Shade. I'm a pizza and beer kind-of-girl. Not ladyfingers and Darjeeling. However good they may _be._ "

This time, the silence was markedly longer. She couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses and scowled unconsciously at that, as he for his part regarded her mutely, face impassive.

"Pizza and beer," he said eventually.

"Yes. Yell at the football game on TV while doing so, too."

Shade lifted a napkin, dabbed at his lips, and cleared his throat. "We may have irreconcilable differences quite a bit larger than mere questions of ethics and occupations, my dear Hope."

She smiled then, and tried to take mercy on him. "Hey, well... _variete et l'epice de vie_ , right?"

He winced discreetly. And commended his spirit into the hands of the gods of Romeo's Deep Dish. 

 


End file.
